The Seduction of Samuel Wilson by the Scoundrel Bucky Barnes
by Chicklette
Summary: polyamorous sequel to The Soldier Stills.
1. Chapter 1

"It was good to see you, Sam," Steve says, opening the front door. He's always happy to have Sam over, and always a little sad to see him go.

"Always," Sam replies, shrugging into his jacket. Bucky gives him a long, tight hug, before releasing him to Steve.

"My place, next Thursday, alright?" Sam says, before taking the hug that Steve offers.

"O'course, pal," Bucky replies, and then they're closing the door and Sam is gone. Steve leans his back against the door and closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Okay?" Bucky asks.

"Yeah," Steve says, startled out of his reverie. "I just-" Steve shrugs, not completing his thought. "Nothing."

Bucky gives Steve a puzzled look, studying him. "Not nothing. What is it?"

Shaking his head, Steve pushes off from the door. "I just – wish he was happy, you know. I wish he had someone."

"Uh huh," Bucky says, still studying Steve. Bucky's trying to place the look and Steve squirms under the attention. It's not that he wants to hide anything from Bucky, it's not. It's just – it's complicated, his feelings for Sam. Steve wants Sam to be happy, and no one seems to be stepping up to the plate to make that happen. Steve can't deny that he still has feelings for Sam, but he wouldn't trade having Bucky back for anything – or _anyone's_ – happiness.

He notices Bucky watching and shrugs, but when he sees the light gleam in Bucky's eyes, he knows it doesn't matter. He never _could_ keep a secret from Buck.

"You – oh my god. You have a crush on Sam, don't you?"

"What? No. Buck, come on. No. That's not – I'm not – I don't. Have a crush. On Sam."

"Oh, you do! Rogers, you're bright red. You still have a crush on Sam!" Bucky laughs, crowing around Steve, watching the bright glow of Steve's embarrassment as it lights up his face. "Hey, pal, I don't blame you. I mean, his abs alone are enough to make a grown man cry."

"His abs? Have you seen his ass?" Steve's still bright pink and flushing, but it makes him glad, knowing that they can talk about this without Steve freaking out. When Steve first told Bucky about his brief relationship with Sam, it felt like he was confessing infidelity, even though Bucky had been "dead" at the time. It's a warm feeling, knowing that they can joke about it now.

"What happened with him and that woman? Claire, I think her name was?"

Steve shrugs. "Said she was in love with her boss."

'S a shame," Bucky says, and gathers plates from the dining room table to take to the kitchen. "Sam's a really good guy. It would be nice to see him happy."

"Would it have lasted, do you think?"

Steve's washing dishes and looks up at Bucky with a question on his face. "Buck, what are you…" And then he closes his eyes and groans because of course, of course. Bucky Barnes doesn't know the meaning of the words "let it go."

"I don't know. I liked him a lot. To be honest, I felt pretty bad about the way things ended, but," Steve says, resignation coloring his voice, "it is what it is. He's told me there are no hard feelings enough that I think he might actually mean it." Steve puts down the dish towel he's been using with prejudice against a casserole dish. "He's a good man. Yeah, I think it might have worked out. No way to know, though." Steve shrugs. "Why's this on your mind, Buck?"

Bucky gives him a long, speculative look. It's the look that Steve knows from a hundred stolen cigarettes, from late rent payments, free drinks in bars, and at least two dozen double dates. Bucky Barnes is scheming. To what end is anyone's guess.

"Not sure yet," Bucky replies.

"Hey," Steve says, walking to Bucky and putting his arms around him. "Go easy with Sam. He's a good man."

Bucky brings a hand to Steve's cheek and look into his eyes. It's all sincerity which pulls a line of tension from Steve's shoulders. "You think I don't know that? You're not the only one who'd like to see him happy, Stevie. There's a lot to like about Sam."

"Okay," Steve says, and presses a soft kiss to Bucky's mouth.

Three weeks later they're in bed, with Bucky taking Steve apart the way that only Bucky can. Steve's panting and sweat-soaked, half out of his mind with the need to come. Again.

"Yeah, doll," Bucky says, pressing metal fingers deep inside of Steve. He's holding Steve, chest to back, kissing along his neck and whispering filthy things in his ear.

Steve whines and presses back, one hand reaching around to Bucky's thigh, pulling him closer.

"Please, Buck, come on."

"Look at you, Stevie," Bucky says, pulling his fingers out of Steve. He runs them through the drying mess on Steve's stomach as Steve grinds his ass into Bucky's lap, desperate to be penetrated.

"Such a mess, baby," Bucky coos. "So needy."

"Bucky." The word is a whine and Bucky chuckles low into Steve's ear before palming his cock.

"I see you like this, honey, and I can't help but think about how you were with him. I bet you looked so good, sweetheart. I bet you took his cock so good."

"Buck! Oh, Jesus." It doesn't even jar Steve out of the moment. He knows exactly what Bucky's talking about and it makes him shiver and gasp, thinking about it too. Steve's panting and Bucky's rutting against him, rubbing the tip of his cock against Steve's hole, but not giving it to him, not yet. And the things in Steve's head become downright filthy, a mix of Sam and Bucky, both of them touching Steve, fucking Steve. He inches closer to orgasm just thinking about it.

"Was he good to you, doll?" Bucky grunts, pressing into Steve and Steve's cock throbs at the intrusion. "I bet he was so good to you. God, I'm ready to go just thinking about the two of you together." He presses further into Steve, hand on his hip, rolling his hips slow and steady, and Steve's ready to lose it, imagining Sam and Bucky together, both of them all over him, the abject hedonism of it.

"Oh, oh god," Steve pants. He's cycling up and so Bucky slows them down, his hand tightening at the base of Steve's cock, holding himself still inside of Steve.

"Easy, baby, shhh." Kissing and licking up the side of Steve's neck, he lets a hand drift to Steve's nipples, plucking and twisting, then rubbing hard, the way Steve likes it. "Bet you still think about it sometimes, don't you, Stevie? Think about his hands all over you while you're getting yourself off, hmmm?"

Steve's desperate, grinding, trying to get Bucky to move. He's covered in a sheen of sweat and it's slick between them, everything's hot and slick and hard and sticky. It's perfect, and he – yeah, he knows what Bucky wants and Steve wants him to have it. Steve wants it too.

"Want me show you, Buck?" he groans. "Let me – I want to show you."

"Oh, oh, Christ, Stevie." Bucky thrusts in hard at that, before pulling back to turn Steve over so that he can in his eyes. It's too much, just the thought of it, so Steve takes Bucky's hand and wraps it around his cock, leaving Bucky to stroke him in time with the way he's pounding into Steve. It feels like seconds before Steve is spilling over Bucky's fist, hot body tightening around Bucky's cock, pulling him over too.

When they've caught their breath, Bucky presses his mouth to Steve's, for slow, languid kisses that exist just for the sake of themselves. They're both sweaty and gross and need a shower, but neither can bother when they've got the other in their arms.

Steve watches Bucky with lazy eyes, takes him in: the lay of his lashes against his cheeks, the pink of his skin, the stubble that he hasn't bothered to clear in a few days. Bucky opens sleepy eyes and they stare at each other. Steve already knows what Bucky's thinking.

"Did I get it wrong?" Bucky asks, and Steve ducks his head and lowers his eyes.

"No. But Buck," he says, and then he's got his hand on Bucky's cheek and he hopes, he hopes that Bucky can see Steve's sincerity. "I am so, so happy. I don't need anything else. You're all I need. You know that, right?"

Bucky smiles that little self-satisfied smile and hums a kiss across Steve's lips. "I know that, doll."

"Okay. You sure about this, then?" Steve asks.

"If he'll have us, yeah," Bucky replies with a shrug.

Steve blinks, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You're awful good to me, Buck."

"Shut up, punk," Bucky says, leaning in to press a kiss against Steve's cheek. "It ain't all about you."

Steve smiles and Bucky catches his eyes, suddenly earnest. "I know you still have feelings for Sam. If you don't - if you're not sure about this? Stevie, we're not the ones who will get hurt. You know that, right?"

Steve's heart swells at that. Because Bucky's always worked overtime to take care of what's his - he'd done it with Steve and Becca, he'd done it with the Howlies, and he's done it with the Avengers, too. In that moment Steve realizes that this isn't about the sex, and it isn't about making space for what Steve wants. It's bigger than all of that, because it's about Sam now, too, and what _Sam_ wants. It's about they can give to Sam, and whether or not he'll take it.

Steve falls a little bit more in love with Bucky then, even as he feels his heart making space for Sam.

"I know that I love you, and I trust you. I know that if Sam wants this, that we'll find a way to make it work. Besides," Steve says, stretching against the warm sheets. "It's not like we've never done this before. We figured it out then, didn't we?"

"Little different this time," Bucky says, standing and pulling Steve with him. "This time I want him, just as much as you do."

He gives Steve a wink before pulling him off to the shower, where they get each other clean, and then dirty all over again.

Steve doesn't know what Sam might think, but if there's a chance that he'd have them, that he'd consider being a part of their lives, then it's a chance Steve is willing to take.

.

Nat's voice is angry over coms. "Okay, who's ass am I kicking when this is over? I love these pants and now? Now there is a hole in these pants. The intel on this was shit."

"Not it," Scott calls, getting a chuckle from Sam.

"Parker, five o'clock," Clint says, and Steve can see on the video link that another one of the swamp creatures is lugging itself up from the sewer.

Tony blasts it with a repulsor and Bucky takes it out with a couple of bullets while it's still in the air.

"Was that the last one? Please tell me that was the last one." Tony says, already circling back to the manhole cover to take on any newcomers.

"Tony, Sam, take the east and west tunnels. Wanda and Clint, north and south. I think we're finally in the clear, but let's be sure." Steve releases his com and looks over at Maria. He knows she's taking Nat's comment hard, and he knows she did the best she could to vet the intel. It wasn't her fault that there were roughly twice the number of hostiles as originally thought.

"She doesn't mean anything by it," he says.

"I've got this, Rogers," Maria answers, and Steve knows that she's angry with herself - angrier than Nat would ever be.

"Just don't -"

"Nat! Behind you!"

Steve swings back around to his display and it looks like all hell has broken loose. A half dozen more hostiles have srpung up from who knows where, and there are two headed right for Nat. She pulls the semi that she keeps at her thigh and fires, huffing as the head explodes off of one, but the other is coming fast.

"Clint? You got this?" she asks, taking aim at one while another comes up behind her.

"I got you, Nat," Clint answers, and takes a leap in the air while firing, arrows splitting off to take out the two behind Nat while she fires her gun again and the head of the last one explodes.

Clint lands rough, though, stumbling and then - and then he's gone, dropping like a stone off the side of the building while Nat screams and Steve and Maria are left to watch.

"Sam! Parker! Tony! Does anyone have him?" Steve's watching his blips, and sees the moment that Sam flies onto the scene, already diving, but he's not going to get there in time and he knows it by the soft swear that comes through coms.

And then he sees it - the star that signifies Bucky is running, hurling himself off the building and diving, diving, trying to get to Clint before Clint hits the ground.

"Bucky!" It's a scream and Steve can't - oh god - he can't watch this and he can't stop, but then Bucky has Clint and he's twisted himself in the air, his body coming up against the building and he reaches out, his metal arm shattering glass and he jerks - he's caught there, hanging off the twenty second floor, Clint tucked up against his side.

"Hey guys," Bucky says. "You know, any time, no rush, we're just hanging out over here." And Nat coughs a nervous laugh and Sam swears and angles up under them, before he's got them and pushes them through the window, safe inside of the building.

"I - thanks. Thank you, Sam." Steve's voice is shaky and he takes off his com, runs a hand over his face and closes his eyes.

"I' can take it from here, Steve," Maria says, her voice gentle. He nods. He's gonna let her.

.

When the team arrives back at the compound, Steve is there, pacing. He's halfway up the ramp when the quinjet opens, and he has his hands on Bucky a moment later.

"I'm okay, Stevie, I'm okay."

Steve's running his hands all over the suit, pressing gentle fingers against Bucky's shoulder, taking in his soft hiss of discomfort.

"You're not okay. That was - Jesus, Buck - that was so stupid!"

"I didn't mind," Clint chimes in, and Steve takes in the way that Nat is hovering beside him, like she can't quite let him out of her reach, even though she's not touching him.

"It was stupid, Buck. Sam got there-"

"Sam wasn't going to get there in time," Bucky says, his voice soft as he nuzzles up against Steve. "I just bought us some time."

"Buck," Steve sighs, then takes Bucky's face in his hands, pressing sweet, soft kisses against his lips.

Sam makes to walk past, and Steve hooks an arm out, pulling the man in. "Thank you, Sam. God, I just - thank you."

Sam takes the hug, but then pats Steve on the back. "It's all good, man. It worked out okay."

He pushes off from Steve, letting him and Bucky have their moment.

Later, while the rest of the team decompresses over bowls of pasta, slices of pizza, thick slices of chicken parm, and osso bucco, Steve finds himself watching Sam. He's subdued, and maybe not entirely there.

Catching his eye, Bucky gives him a quizzical look. Steve shrugs and looks at Sam again, letting his worry show. _He's not okay,_ Steve says with his eyes.

Bucky gives him a short nod.

When everyone starts to disperse, he makes a point of waking with Sam. Their suites at the compound are both on the same floor, and Steve finds he's hesitant to let Sam go, but isn't sure what to do about it.

Bucky solves the problem before Steve can even figure out what he wants.

Steve and Bucky's suite is first on the hallway, and as they reach them, Bucky swings his arm out and hooks it around Sam.

"I don't want you alone tonight, Sam. Come and stay with us."

Sam stares at Bucky dumbly for a moment. "Nah, man, I don't want to-"

"Shut up, Sam. You're staying with us."

And it's that easy. Steve watches as first Bucky, then Sam, enter the suite and he follows, knowing that somehow, Bucky's figured out a way to make everything alright.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam stands under the shower in the guest room, letting the hot water slide over him. He'd expected a drop - sometimes when the adrenaline lets up, it leaves Sam shaking and panting, crying and trying to hold on to some semblance of his sense of self. His sanity.

But that didn't happen this time, or at least it hasn't happened yet.

Instead, Sam feels strung tight but exhausted. His body won't let go of its tension, even as his mind is begging for a break, trying to shut down. He'd thought about going home, but he likes the way the team bonds over food after a mission, and – and he doesn't want to go home alone.

A sharp knock at the door draws his attention.

"Just me," Steve says, opening the door. "Sorry. Bucky thought you could use this." Sam can see through the frosted glass that Steve is being polite, keeping his eyes averted even as he holds a cold beer over the top of the partition. Even though it's nothing that Steve hasn't seen before. "He said it would be better in the shower. Insisted."

"Thanks, man," Sam says, and Steve makes a noise of welcome as he leaves.

The cold beer feels amazing in his hand, and as he drains the bottle in five long swallows, he thinks again at how lucky he is to have these good men in his life. Maybe he didn't get it all the way he wanted, and yeah, it would be nice to have someone to hold him tight on a night like this, someone to take care of him, just for a little while, but he's still got Steve and Bucky, and they've got his back any way he looks at it, so yeah, maybe he doesn't have it all, but what he's got is enough.

After his shower he thinks about going right to bed, but he can see that the television is on in the living room, so he decides to go out there instead. Maybe another one of those beers, or something a little stronger will help set him to rights.

When he peeks his head around, he sees Steve and Bucky sitting on the couch, a blanket over their laps. Bucky's half laying of Steve and has his long legs spread over the cushions, but when he sees Sam, he sits up and holds out a glass of amber liquid with some orange rind and one very large ice cube.

"Old fashioned," he says, "right?"

As Sam comes around to take the glass, Bucky pats the seat next to him on the couch.

"LIttle Mermaid, Sam," he says, like that's the only explanation he needs, and maybe it is. Maybe a little musical happily ever after is all he needs.

He must zone out though, because it seems like only a minute later when the credits are rolling and Bucky is nudging him up from the couch.

"C'mon," he says, his voice gruff. "Going to bed."

And he follows the two men, meaning to go to the guest room but instead, Bucky takes Sam by the wrist and pulls him into the bedroom with him and Steve.

"What?" He says, pulling his wrist back.

"Jesus, Sam, at least one of us is going to wake up screaming tonight. Do me a favor and save us the trip, yeah?"

And maybe it's the bourbon or the exhaustion or just the damned loneliness, but Sam just says, yeah, and then waits for Steve and Bucky to arrange themselves, before he climbs into the bed on the far end, breathing out a sigh as Bucky reaches over and pats Sam's shoulder.

"Glad you're here," Bucky says, squeezing, before letting go.

The last thing he thinks before dreams take him is how this should be weird, and it isn't.

Bucky's right, of course. Sam comes to a few hours later to the sound of Bucky's voice, low and soft, and Steve's whimpering and thrashing. It takes Sam back, some. When they'd been turning the world upside down looking for Bucky, Sam and Steve shared a room usually and a bed when they had to. Sam knew the sound of Steve's bad dreams by heart, and given the day's events, he wasn't surprised to see Bucky hunched over Steve, trying to draw him out.

"Stevie, come on. Wake up for me, huh, doll? I'm right here. I'm right here."

He hears Steve gasp awake and then Bucky's low, shushing sounds as Steve sobs. It hurts, hearing Steve in pain like that, and as Sam turns over and presses his face to his pillow, he finds a moment to be glad for Steve and Bucky that they have each other. He's always been shit at lying to himself, so he takes a moment to see the jealousy he feels for what it is, before he closes his eyes and goes back to sleep.

 _The desert air is dark and hot, a weight in his lungs as he pushes himself up higher, the wings responding to his micro movements just the way they were meant to. Sam looks over at Riley, the two of them sharing a grin, when the first rocket goes off._

 _"Down!" Sam yells. "Take cover!"_

 _There's a yell and then Bucky is falling through the air, one shoulder jerking as the flak hits it, and he hears Steve screaming, "Bucky! Bucky!"_

 _Sam shifts his body into a dive, but he knows it's too late by the way Riley is tumbling down, out of control._

 _He can't - he should have - and now he can't-_

"Hey, Sam, hey. You're okay, come on Sam. Come on back to us. You're okay."

And then Bucky is there, whole and alive, and petting Sam awake from the nightmare that had him in its thrall.

Sam sits up, runs a hand over his face.

"Here," Steve says, sitting up and handing Bucky a glass of water that he passes to Sam.

"Okay?" Bucky asks, and Sam can see the earnestness on his face, shining in the low light of the room.

"I...yeah, thanks." Sam takes a long drink for the glass of water before setting it on the nightstand.

Reaching over, Steve pats his shoulder. "You sure?"

"Yeah, man. Thanks." Sam sighs and lays back down, eyes wide on the ceiling.

"Come on," Bucky says, and pulls Sam onto his side, tugging him in to hold him close.

"Go back to sleep," Bucky says, and yeah, this should be _really_ weird.

But it's not.

It's comforting and Sam wants it and Sam _needs_ it, so he lets Bucky spoon him as he falls back asleep.

He wakes up at one point to throw a leg out from under the covers and notices that they're all in a tangle of limbs. He's pretty sure that's Steve's hand on his waist, and it's definitely Bucky's leg over his, but before he can think about it, he's back under.

When he wakes next, the room is bright behind his closed eyes.

Morning, then, and as he comes to, he realizes he hasn't slept that well in a long time. He's about to open his eyes and stretch when he realizes he's being cuddled aggressively from behind. As Sam shifts to move away, the arm around his waist tightens and there's a roll of hips and a hard cock snugged right up against his ass. His sex starved body reacts, Pavlovian, his own morning wood further stiffening as he fights the urge to press back. Then there's a snuffling and a warm breath as a soft kiss is laid against the bare back of Sam's neck, and okay, this is probably more than he bargained for, excellent night's sleep or not.

Just as he's about to say something the person holding him freezes.

"Shit," Bucky says. "Shit. Sam - sorry." And then Bucky is rolling away, and Sam, for all that it felt nice, chalks it up to Bucky being half asleep.

As he showers, he's relieved to notice that he's only a little disappointed.

"You need to get laid," he says to himself. The man staring back from the mirror does not disagree. "Yeah, that's what I thought." Sam's always had a high sex drive. He's always liked sex, from his first surprised orgasm to the first time he made someone else come, he'd liked it. Going without for too long usually left him out of sorts. It was less a factor of knowing how to satisfy himself than the rush of getting someone else off. He missed the connection. The intimacy.

Breakfast that morning is thick pancakes with fresh strawberries, fresh OJ, bacon, eggs and hash browns. As he's walking down the hall toward the kitchen, Sam is startled by a deep, sensual moan.

"Oh my god, that's so good."

Sam swallows hard, his dick immediately taking notice, supplying a host of images that could have made Bucky produce that sound, and none of them are PG.

He moans again and Sam turns back toward the bedrooms.

"Steve, my God."

Yeah, okay, definitely doesn't need any of that, despite what his dick might think.

"Stevie, no, you gotta try this."

"Jeez, Buck. Are you eating it or making out with it?" A pause. "Oh, oh yeah that's good."

Chuckling at himself, Sam heads into the kitchen. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"Sam, you gotta try these strawberries. They're amazing."

"Oh, they sound amazing. I wasn't sure what I was walking into here."

Steve's pinks, but Bucky looks utterly unconcerned as he feeds Sam a strawberry, his thumb brushing Sam's lower lip.

"Amazing, right?" he asks, all guileless blue eyes and strawberry red mouth.

Sam chews, a burst of bright, sweet flavor across his tongue. He catches himself wanting to lick the juice from Bucky's fingertip, and the moment feels heavy, charged with something that doesn't belong.

"Buck," Steve says, and shifts Bucky to the side, out of the way of the stove. "Pancakes? Remember? The whole reason we bought the strawberries?"

Bucky grins, then turns around to take the spatula from Steve, and the tension bleeds out of the air.

There's an absurd amount of food and the three of them put it away with ease that has Sam chuckling. One nice thing about these two - he never feels like a pig the way he did when he'd have meals with Claire. She pretended not to be annoyed when he'd order a second burger sometimes, but he always felt like she got bored waiting on him to finish. Got to the point where he'd find himself stopping for a meal either before or after one of their dates, just so he could be normal for her, for a while.

It wasn't loads better with David or Luc. Luc understood a little more because he worked out a lot, but David had a lithe little dancer's body, and even though they'd only made it a month, Sam still remembers the baffled look on David's face when Sam ordered the waffles _and_ the eggs bene for breakfast that last morning.

Shared life experience. Guess Steve had a point with that after all.

Steve groans and pushes back from the table. "I don't think I'm eating again for a week. What did you put in those pancakes, Buck?"

"Shut it, Rogers. You'll be whining for take-out before noon and you know it."

Steve laughs and pats his flat abs. "Nope. Never again. I'm not eating ever again." Then he picks up his fork and steals a bit of hash browns from Sam's plate.

"You did not!"

"Pretty sure he did."

"Ugh, why did I do that?" Steve groans again and really pushes away from the table this time, walking into the living room and flopping onto the couch.

"Movie day while we digest?"

Bucky stretches, his arms high over his head before he arches back, revealing a sliver of skin at his stomach, and Sam finds himself staring.

Fuck.

"Yes, please," Bucky says. "And maybe naps later?"

"Definitely," Steve says. "Sam, you staying?"

And Sam should say no, but Steve's patting the sofa and Sam is so full and, okay, he's lonely too, and he's a little bit drunk on these two brats and how easy they make it to say yes, so he does.

He flops onto the sofa between the pair of them, and Steve and Sam watch Raiders of the Lost Ark while Bucky watches with one eye and reads a Le Guin novel with the other.

He's not sure when he drops off, but he wakes up in a pile of super soldiers, with Steve's head on his shoulder and Bucky's legs across his lap and he should be less comfortable but it's - it's nice, the weight of them on him. As he looks up, he sees Bucky watching him through half-lidded eyes before a small, soft smile takes his face and turns it into something beautiful.

Sam gives him a half grin back. Any thought of leaving has clean left his head, so he settles himself a little further into the couch and rests a hand over Bucky's ankle before drifting back to sleep.

It's late afternoon by the time they're all awake again, and it's past time for Sam to be heading home. From what he remembers about Steve's bedroom appetites, Sam has probably already overstayed his welcome, invitation or no.

So when Steve says, "Hey, stay for dinner," Sam has an easy time saying no.

But when Bucky says "Sam, c'mon," and looks up at him with guileless eyes, Sam has a harder time resisting. "Just stay over," Bucky says. "C'mon, you can braid my hair." And then he winks at Sam and smacks him on the butt as he walks away, and Sam can't let that rest, so he's chasing Bucky to the ground and they're wrestling and Steve is hooting in the background and then Bucky is on top of him, and he's pinned, arms over his head, thighs splayed with Bucky's weight over him and he's breathing hard and it's not from exertion.

"Sam," Bucky says, "Stay." And then he kisses the tip of Sam's nose and what. The fuck?

Bucky uses both hands to haul Sam up, and Steve is still chuckling off to the side. The two of them are looking like nothing out of the ordinary happened so…did it?

"Yeah," Sam says. "Alright." He takes the beer that Steve offers him and he sits at the kitchen table while Steve gets dinner going.

There's a moment when Steve's fussing with dinner, chopping and tasting and chopping, when Bucky reaches out and pats Sam's hand. Sam looks up and Bucky stares at him for a moment.

"You finally back with us?" he asks

Sam takes a minute to check in with himself because yeah, he is back and wow, he didn't think anyone even noticed that he checks out sometimes after a mission.

Nodding, Sam wonders what else Bucky's noticed, what else Sam's been showing without even knowing it. He feels exposed after so long hidden.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Bucky asks. "Sometimes it helps just to talk."

Sam is…Sam is _touched._ This man, who has every right to be broken, he's drawing himself up, making a space for Sam to lean in, if leaning's what he needs.

Catching Bucky's hand in his, he squeezes. "I'm good man. But thanks."

As they eat dinner there's a soft, easy feeling in the air. These guys, Sam thinks, they're like family. Maybe better than, because even though they know his shit, they're happy to let him be who he is, happy to let him explore a little and see if he might be someone different, too. Family has expectations, and that's not always a bad thing, but it's not always a _free_ thing either.

Happiness looks good on Steve, and Bucky, too. Sam thinks maybe he'd like to find a little of his own happy. Thinks maybe it's time, though even the thought raises a little barb in his heart.

Soft music plays while they eat - a little bit of everything, form old-school soul and Andrews Sisters to modern funk and what passes for alternative these days. It's not until _September_ from Earth, Wind and Fire plays that Sam gets up and moving.

"Come on," he says, holding his hand out to Steve.

Steve laughs and shakes his head. "You know I can't dance."

Bucky surprises him though, offering his hand from across the table. "Fights like he does and says he can't dance," Bucky says, shaking his head. His hair is up, pulled back into a bun at the top of his head and strands fall out, creating a halo.

"Alright, Barnes. Let's see what you got."

Bucky smirks, cock sure, and damn if that isn't sexy and Wilson, you have _got_ to get a grip on yourself.

They move to the music, easy and rhythmic, and when the music changes to some 80's pop, Sam rolls with the punches and gives as good as he gets. And then Mary J comes on and it is over. Bucky knows how to shake his ass and who the fuck taught him that in this century?

Sam's feeling good and easy, letting his body move without thought, giving and taking the easy, casual touches that come from dancing close. Bucky's there stealing sips from his bourbon more often than not, and there's not many better ways to spend an evening, Sam thinks. An old standard comes on, and Bucky comes near, takes Sam's hand in his and pulls him close.

"Let me lead?" Bucky asks, placing a warm palm on Sam's hip.

Sam smiles. "Yeah, alright," he says and lets Bucky move them around the living room. They'd pushed the table off to the side after the second song, and it's nice, Sam thinks, as he rests his hand against Bucky's hip and lets Bucky pull him closer.

Then the music changes and some girl is singing Nina Simone better than Nina did it and Steve is behind and Bucky is in front of him and what?

"Like this," Bucky says, and puts Steve's hands on Sam's hips.

Steve gives a little tug, and Sam's hips are are flush against Steve, and Bucky is guiding the three of them into some kind of rhythm that, ok, matches the song but not his heartbeat. Not at all.

And then Bucky is in front of him, swaying the three of them and watching Sam in a way that makes his tongue feel too big for his mouth.

"What are you doing?" he asks, voice low and thick.

Bucky looks up at him through those thick, thick lashes (why though? Why are they so thick?) and aquamarine eyes and oh, Sam can't even swallow.

"Nothing you don't want."

Sam fights his way through the double meaning of that. Nothing, if Sam doesn't want it, but also, nothing that Sam doesn't want.

And he wants.

Bucky does too, from the look in his eyes, just naked want, and Steve has a hold of Sam's hips and they're all swaying to the music.

"But if you want," Bucky says, and the girl's voice soars with the roaring in his ears. "If you want, you can have this. You can have us. If you want."

Bucky moves forward and lays his head on Sam's shoulder, and Sam put his arms around Bucky's neck and he can feel Steve, nuzzling against his temple and they stay like that, shifting slow and steady, with the music wrapped around them, and it's breathe in and breathe out until the music starts to wane.

Leaning back, Bucky looks Sam in the eye, then brings a hand up to cup Sam's cheek, and it's warm, so warm, and Sam can't stop staring.

"Even if all you want is him," Bucky says, and his eyes flick to Steve. "That's okay, too, Sam. Whatever you want. Even if you want to say no."

Shivering, Sam takes that in.

Because what Bucky is saying - he's saying Sam can take what's in front of him. He can put his mouth on Bucky's, taste the bourbon, warm and sweet, and that's okay. And if he doesn't like it, he can still have Steve, and that - that is - it's not that there hasn't been anyone since Steve, but there hasn't been anyone _like_ Steve. Not by a mile.

Sam is - how do you make this kind of decision? Say yes to something that feels crazy? Say yes because you are so overloaded with want and need and hunger that you don't even know how to say no? How to respond at all?

Sam shivers again and Bucky's eyes flick to Steve's and then down.

"Hey," Steve says. "It's okay to say no," Then he takes his hands from Sam's hips and gives his shoulders a squeeze at the same time that Bucky gives him a sad smile and takes a step back, saying "We just thought we'd –"

"No."


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey," Steve says. "It's okay to say no," Then he takes his hands from Sam's hips and gives his shoulders a squeeze at the same time that Bucky gives him a sad smile and takes a step back, saying "We just thought we'd –"

"No."

Sam's hands shoot out to hold them both in place.

"Just...give me a minute."

Bucky levels him with one of those soft smiles that make him look like a schoolyard kid with a crush and butterflies in his stomach and that's all the push that Sam needs.

He licks his lips and leans forward and there is so much surprise in Bucky's eyes, and then Sam's brushing his mouth against Bucky's and he feels Steve tighten his fingers into his hip and damn, but he has _missed_ that.

"Okay?" he asks, pulling away.

"Yeah," Bucky breathes. "Yeah, Sam." Bucky's got a way of saying Sam's name, and it makes Sam's knees a little shaky, the way his mouth wraps around the word, soft and almost slurry, a half-whisper.

Sam leans in for more, lets himself get a taste of Bucky's mouth, and Bucky lets him in, hot and sweet and tasting like bourbon and oranges and Sam gets a little lost there until Bucky sucks on his tongue and Steve makes a high, soft, wanting noise that Sam recognizes all these years later.

"Oh, did we forget about you?" Sam asks.

Steve nods and comes around to the side, leaning his head down so he can get at Sam's mouth. Bucky hums and puts an arm around both of them, and when they break for air, Bucky's looking so fond, like this is something he's been wanting, something he's happy to see.

It hits Sam then, the touches and the kiss on the nose – this morning with the cuddles.

"You," he says, looking Barnes in the eye. "You – you fucking planned this, didn't you? You've been – all the touching – you've been setting me up!"

Bucky's devilish grin is all the answer Sam needs.

Looking at Steve, he says "And you – you were in on it, weren't you? Mr. All-American, my ass. You're corrupt, Rogers. You're suspect."

Steve and Bucky are laughing hard enough that they lose their grip on Sam and he can't help but laugh too, until something catches inside of him, warm and bright because this? These two idiots laughing so hard that they're grabbing for each other _and_ him? This could be his.

He's shaken, so he hides it by reaching for his glass and taking it to the kitchen for a refill. "I hate you both," he calls over his shoulder, and that starts them laughing all over again.

When he gets back, the two of them have moved to the couch, faces still smiling as they pat the space between them. As Sam sits, Bucky relieves him of his drink.

"You know, you all have more of that in the kitchen," Sam says.

"Yeah," Steve says, stealing the drink from Bucky and taking a sip himself. "But I kind of need you sober for this. And we can't get drunk."

"Well, we can," Bucky says.

"But Thor isn't here," Steve replies.

At that, Sam checks in with himself. He's been drinking steadily all night, but…yeah, he's not feeling even a little drunk. Or he is, but it's not the bourbon at all.

He turns to look at Bucky who smirks at him again and shrugs. "It's why I've been stealing your drink all night. If you're with us, we want it to be because you want it. I think you'd break our hearts if you did this and regretted it."

Sam blinks at that because, oh, yeah. It's thoughtful and kind; it's exactly who Bucky is, and Sam feels that little fluttery thing inside of his chest again because it's nice, being cared for. It's been a while.

"Do you want some time, Sam?" Steve asks. "I know this probably wasn't on your radar, but Buck and I have talked about this. A lot. We're sure, if you are."

"Wow," Sam says. "Okay, so, you guys have talked about this? About me?"

Steve nods and angles himself toward Sam, bringing one knee up onto the couch and tucking his foot under his leg. He reaches out for Sam's hand and tangles their fingers together.

Staring down at their fingers, Sam closes his eyes as he feels Bucky run a hand up his arm.

"Okay, I'm a little impressed," Sam says. "Good to see you two fossils can communicate."

"Har har, smartass," Bucky says and smacks him on the thigh.

"When you say 'this,'" Sam asks, "What do you mean?"

"Well for starters," Steve says, moving in close. "We mean this." And then he kisses Sam, all hot, sweet mouth, his tongue licking across Sam's lower lip and Sam feels Bucky's hand squeeze against his thigh.

"Greedy," Bucky says, and brings his hand against Sam's face to pull it towards his for his own kiss. As Bucky kisses him, his hand on Sam's jaw, stroking soft against it, Sam feels Steve angling in against his neck before he feels a train of soft, warm kisses that go down to his collar bone.

Then, as though they've signaled one another, both men pull back, leaving Sam feeling a little dazed and a lot wanting.

"Not fair," Sam says, his voice hoarse.

Steve chuckles low in his throat. "Oh, we never said we'd be fair."

"Should we stop, Sam?" Bucky asks, nuzzling beneath Sam's ear.

"Don't you fucking dare," Sam says, feeling himself arching into Bucky's touch, Steve's hand on his thigh, and Sam reaches around to pull Bucky closer.

"Can we take you on a date, Sam?" Bucky asks. "I want to take you on a date. Want to see you handsome, just for us."

"Uh, yeah. Uhm, maybe later?" Sam says, his mind going a little hazy as Steve sucks his earlobe into his mouth. There are hot hands on his thighs and hot breaths against his neck and he's not thinking about anything else in the world right now.

"I," he starts, because it's important to talk this through, he knows that. "I want to talk more," he gets out, before putting his mouth on Bucky's neck and feeling him shudder when Sam's teeth graze his skin. "But not right now, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah." Steve says, his big hand squeezing against Sam's thigh.

"Anything," Bucky says, tipping his head back, exposing his neck.

He doesn't track how it happens, but he finds himself with his back against Steve's chest, with Steve running his hands all over Sam's body, his mouth on Sam's neck, and Bucky leaned over Sam and kissing him within an inch of his life. Bucky kisses dirty and rough, or soft and so sweet that it makes everything inside of Sam melt. Steve kisses needy, always, like he can't believe he gets to do it and like he's never going to get enough. And maybe if Sam had grown up on Bucky's kisses, he'd kiss like that too - needy and wanting more.

"Buck," he groans, and someone's got their hand up his shirt and he's going to die if he doesn't get more.

Bucky presses their hips together and Sam hisses, brings his legs around Bucky's waist, needing to feel more. The sweats and pajama pants they're all wearing does nothing to hide that every one of them is keyed up. The sounds that fill his ears – mouths on skin, soft groans and grunts, and the slide of fabric against flesh – all of it spurs him on until he can't think anymore – he's nothing but sensation and want, God, he wants this.

"Up," Bucky says, and pulls away from Sam. "Come on, Sammy, turn over for me. Give Steve some love."

Sam blinks and then turns over, so he's in Steve's arms and Steve leans up to kiss him as soon as he can. Bucky slides his hands up Sam's back, pulling his shirt up as he goes, and Sam breaks the kiss just long enough for Bucky to slip it over his head. The soft cotton falls away, and Bucky's hands, warm and rough, slide up and down his body, making Sam arch and press, but Steve's hands are there too, and God, these men are going to take him apart.

Laying hot, wet kisses against his skin, Bucky presses his hips against Sam's ass, grinding through the fabric and Sam doesn't even know what to do. If he presses forward, there's friction and whole body yearns for it, but if he presses back, there's Bucky, making him yearn for something else.

"Steve, I – Buck, oh, oh, God."

"What do you want, baby?" Bucky whispers in his ear. "Anything, Sam. Want to make you feel so good."

Sam whines and presses his face to Steve's shoulder, giving himself a break from the onslaught of sensation. He calms as Bucky pulls away, stroking a hand down his back.

"Hey, Sam, come on. Breather, okay?" Bucky sits all the way back and pulls Sam with him, settling him against the back of the couch. Steve sits up and he looks – he looks good. Sam remembers Steve like this, eyes glazed and mouth red and puffy and it stirs something visceral inside of him.

Bucky leaves the room and Steve reaches out, stroking his pinky along Sam's while Sam watches. It's such a small thing, a bit of affection but it grounds Sam, and he needs it. It reminds him that this isn't just bodies and want and need. This isn't just sex.

Bucky returns with a glass of water and peers at Sam as he offers it to him.

"Okay?" he asks and there's such softness in his eyes.

Sam reaches up for the water, then tangles the fingers of his other hand with Bucky's. The metal is cool against his fingers and he draws it to his face, presses it to his cheek before turning to press a kiss against the palm. He hears the faint whir of the plates moving as Bucky cups his hand against Sam's cheek. Steve leans over and brushes a kiss against Sam's shoulder and that's it, he thinks. He wants this, and he can't think of a single reason not to have it. Not right now, at least, and there's nothing, nothing that feels wrong here, nothing that's amiss.

Leaning forward, Sam sets the glass of water on the coffee table, then takes Steve's hand. "Bedroom?" he asks.

He hears Steve's breath catch but it's Bucky who tugs at their joined hands until Sam looks him in the eye.

"Are you sure, Sam?"

And Sam likes it. He likes that Bucky is being so good about consent, and making sure that Sam is clear-headed and protecting future-Sam from so-turned-on-right-now-Sam's potentially bad decisions. But all that aside? Yeah. He's sure.

Sam leans over to Bucky, cups his cheek with his hand and kisses him, deep and long and extremely fucking thorough, and then he slides his hand up Bucky's leg and palms his hard cock through Bucky's thin sleep pants. He pulls back and watches as Bucky tries to clear his head.

"I'm about as sure as that is," Sam says, giving Bucky's cock a little squeeze.

Bucky's breath catches before he gives a hard exhale. "Bedroom, come on."

Sam smirks and Steve chuckles. "Oh, you are so in for it now, Sam."

It's slow going down the hall as they stop to touch and kiss and strip, leaving a trail of shirts and pants and socks in their wake.

Steve and Bucky push Sam onto the bed and then they just stop and stare.

He's naked and it's uncomfortable for a moment, but then Sam smirks and strokes his cock and that gets the boys moving again.

They lay one on each side of him, their hands all over his body and Steve grinding his cock into Sam's hip. Steve's mouth is on Sam's, hot and lush and needy. Bucky's nuzzling against Sam's neck, whispering filthy, pretty things that are lighting Sam right up inside.

"What do you want?" Steve asks. "How do you want us?"

Sam's got his mouth full of Steve and a hand tangled in Bucky's hair. He tugs and then pushes, and Bucky gets the hint, starts sliding down Sam's body. He kisses, licks and bites his way down, and Steve swallows every sigh, every moan.

When Bucky takes Sam's cock in his mouth, Sam curls up a little, lets out a whine and he feels more than hears Bucky's chuckle.

"It's okay," Steve says. "Just let go. Just let us, Sam. We want you so much, gonna make you feel so good."

Steve's kissing Sam with that heady, needy way of his, almost like he's yearning for the kiss at the same time that he's actually kissing Sam. It makes Sam crazy like it always did, but before he can get a handle on it, he feels Bucky's mouth wrap around the head of his cock and that's a whole different kind of crazy.

Sam breaks the kiss with Steve and looks down his body at Bucky settled between his legs. Bucky looks up with a grin and then tongues the head of Sam's cock, teasing little licks that only amp up his excitement.

"You sure you wanna play like that?" Sam asks. Bucky gives him a smirk and continues his tease. Sam drops his head back onto the pillow, then tilts it to allow Steve better access to his neck. It's not until he feels hot breath ghosting over his balls that he moans, cutting it off into a whine as Bucky sucks Sam's balls into his mouth.

"Jesus," Sam gasps.

"He's good at that, huh?" Steve asks.

"Mmmm. Speaking of," he says, and tugs on Steve's hair. "Why don't you get up here?"

Sam catches Bucky's eye as he asks, "How many you think he's got in him tonight?"

Bucky looks Steve over. "At least three. Stevie?"

Steve flushes pink down to his chest and looks away. The serum's given him a recovery period that a high-school boy would envy.

"Yeah," Bucky says. "At least three."

"Mind if I take the first one?"

Bucky grins and licks a stripe up Sam's cock with the flat of his tongue. "If you think you can concentrate," he says, blowing across the wet skin. "Be my guest."

"Oh fuck you both," Steve says, his flush crawling down toward his chest.

"Don't worry, doll," Bucky answers. "You're gonna."

Sam watches as Steve crawls over, then straddles Sam's chest. He braces his hands on the wall above the headboard as Sam guides him into his mouth, and it's perfect, perfect, from the sighs that turn to moans to the way Steve starts to tremble, trying not to thrust.

Sam needs this, the distraction, because Bucky is crouched over him now, sucking his cock in earnest and if he lets himself go, lets himself really feel it, it'll be too much and this will all be over.

Instead he draws it out, teasing Steve with his tongue even as he presses his heels to the mattress, making space for Bucky. He slides his fingers into Steve's crack and Steve lets out a wanton moan, pressing back against Sam's fingers.

Humming, Sam takes Steve deeper, opening his mouth wider and pressing on Steve's hips, signaling that it's okay to thrust some. Steve tips his head back moans, his movements shallow but sure into Sam's mouth.

And Steve, God, Steve tastes just the same. He smells the same – good – and the sounds he makes, all of it so familiar that Sam's at ease in a way he would never have imagined.

He almost chuckles at the thought. He could never have imagined this being his reality – these two men, with their bright light shining, turning that light on him, pulling him into it. It's so good.

Steve pants a whine above him and Sam presses a finger against his hole, swirls his tongue around the cock in his mouth.

"Sam, Sam," Steve's looking down at him with that look he gets, desperate and almost confused, like he can't quite believe he's allowed this kind of pleasure.

Bucky pops off of Sam's dick – thank God – to watch and talk him through it, words like doll, and that's right, and come on, Stevie. And then Steve shudders and he's pulsing hot and wet against Sam's tongue. If Bucky didn't have a grip at the base of Sam's cock, Sam would probably be right there with him.

Instead, he reaches up and holds onto Steve as he sags against the wall, and licks around Steve's cock once more, just to see him shiver. Bucky crawls up Sam's body and has his tongue in Sam's mouth the minute he pulls off of Steve.

"That was gorgeous," Bucky says, looking into Sam's eyes. "The two of you are gorgeous."

Steve slides down and they share a wet, filthy, three way kiss.

"You two are gonna kill me," Sam says, breaking the kiss.

"Nah," Bucky says. His fingers walking up Sam's stomach. "You're made of tough stuff."

Sam changes places with Steve, and he and Bucky work together to open Steve up. Steve's always half out of his head during sex, and it seems he's doubly so with Sam and Bucky. He's gasping, moaning and begging, as Sam and Bucky torment him in turns.

"Stop," he finally groans. "Stop. One of you has to fuck me. You have to."

Bucky chuckles and makes a deferring gesture to Sam.

Sam can't help but laugh. "What, you're just gonna watch?"

Grinning, Bucky says "Nah, was thinking about giving him something to shut him up, unless you'd rather?"

"You are both such assholes," Steve says, making to turn over onto his back.

"Uh-uh," Sam says, holding his hips in place as he moves behind Steve. He's watching the way his fingers in and out of Steve, easy and slick, as Bucky positions himself at Steve's head, leaning down to kiss him, soft and sweet, and it sparks something in Sam, something like pride, maybe, with how tender Bucky is with Steve.

Bucky whispers something, and Steve nods, then pushes back against Sam's fingers.

"We got condoms," Bucky says. "But we can't catch anything even if you have it, so it's your call, Sam."

Grinning, Sam shakes his head. "I'm good if you are," he says. "Just got my regular test a few weeks ago, and, uh, it's been a while."

"Alright. Stevie, you ready?"

"Nope," Steve answers. "I think I died of old age while you two dithered."

"Dithered?" Bucky arches a brow and Sam smacks Steve's ass in a way that turns it all pink and pretty.

"I really do hate you both," he says and flops against Bucky's lap.

Sam smacks his ass again and Steve lifts, wiggling it at Sam.

"Come on, doll," Bucky says, taking his cock in his hand and feeding it to Steve. "Gonna be so good for us, aren't you."

Steve whines around his mouthful and Sam lines up, pressing his slicked cock into Steve's wet hole.

"So good, baby," Bucky says, his voice going soft and scratchy. He keeps one hand on Steve's cheek and braces himself up with the other.

And it is good. It's so, so good. Bucky's breathing hard and murmuring soft things to Steve, and Steve is holding himself steady, letting Sam fuck into him while he keeps his mouth on Bucky. It's been a couple of years since he and Steve have been together like this, and the familiarity is comfortable even as Sam notices the changes – the way Steve seems more at ease, able to surrender in a way he hadn't quite figured out when he was with Sam.

And then Sam's not thinking, just feeling, as Steve starts pushing back, fucking himself on Sam's cock and Jesus, Jesus that's good. It's _good_.

He leans forward, taking Steve's cock in his hand as he thrusts and Steve takes his mouth off Bucky, panting and whining, resting his head against Bucky's thigh as he shakes.

"Close, Sam, close," Steve's panting, his whole body drawing tense and tight. Bucky slides his thumb across Steve's lower lip, dips it into Steve's mouth and Steve sucks, another whine slipping from his throat.

"Doing so good, sweetheart," Bucky murmurs. "You're being so good for Sam."

Bucky flicks his eyes to Sam and they're bright, blazing and beautiful, full of affection and lust and something else that brings Sam right to the edge.

"Buck – Sam – I – oh, oh!" Sam feels the pulse of Steve's cock as he comes, and shudders at the way Steve's body grips him.

"Ah, hell," he cries, giving in and thrusting hard into Steve twice before he comes, his orgasm rocking through him, making him gasp, holding tight to Steve's hips.

Laying across Steve's back, he kisses his neck and shoulders before Bucky leans forward to press a soft kiss to Sam's lips. "Gorgeous," he says, and his gruff voice reminds Sam that Bucky hasn't come yet.

"You're gonna be," Sam says, pulling off of Steve and leaning forward and to the side to kiss Bucky in earnest.

As they kiss, Steve starts to come back to himself, pressing fluttering kisses to Bucky's thighs and belly, before crawling up closer to kiss his mouth. They stay like that for a moment, kissing the three of them, soft and dirty and sweet, until Bucky tugs Steve into place.

"Sweetheart, want to be inside you," Bucky whispers and Steve's breath huffs out of him in a gust. Bucky holds himself steady and Steve slides down his cock and then rocks a little, Bucky's hands on his thighs and oh, oh.

Sam's mind breaks a little then, because Steve is still dripping with Sam's come and it's – God – it's filthy and Sam can't stop watching.

He leans over to kiss Bucky, but Bucky ducks his head away.

"It's – I dissociate sometimes, when I'm overstimulated." His cheeks color and that is not okay with Sam, not at all.

Turning Bucky's head, he looks him in the eye. "Anything you need, baby," Sam says, and Bucky shakes his head, then presses a kiss to the corner of Sam's mouth.

Steve rocks forward again and Sam lays his head on Bucky's shoulder, watching as Steve takes Bucky the rest of the way. He rides Bucky, slow and steady, as Bucky's breath becomes erratic, his left hand scrabbling for the sheets as his right clutches at Steve's thigh.

"Buck, baby, the way you feel…." Steve's hips drop and Sam feels a smile pull at the corner of his mouth because, yeah, he knows that move. He can tell from the way Steve's hips swivel on the upswing that he's clenching around Bucky, doing everything he can to make Bucky feel so, so good.

"Stevie," Bucky gasps, and then he's there and Sam gets to see it, the way his face holds, looking almost painful, almost frightened, before it breaks into bliss and he's, God, Bucky's smiling and it's so beautiful, they are so beautiful together, and Sam is overcome.

Bucky's breathing hard as he comes down, and Steve lays over him, kissing and nuzzling into the curve of his neck. Tilting his head, he stares at Sam before shifting to press a kiss to his mouth.

Steve groans, getting both of their attention, and Bucky leans up to take Steve's still-hard cock in hand.

Sam leans up as well, and together they stroke him until he's coming once more, hot and slick all over Bucky's chest.

He falls to Bucky's other side, and the three of them lay there, snuggled against each other despite the sweat and stickiness coating them all.

"We're so gross right now," Bucky says.

Steve groans and throws a leg over Bucky's, rubbing his foot along Bucky's shin.

"I'm not going to be able to sleep like this," Sam says.

"Shut up," Steve says, already sounding half asleep.

"Fuck off," Bucky answers. "We're showering."

"Hate you both," Steve answers.

But still, he gets up when Sam and Bucky do, and as the three of them shower under warm water, rubbing against each other with soap-slicked skin, Sam's taken aback again, at how easy this is, how none of it feels foreign or strange.

He doesn't think about it too hard as they towel each other off and head back to bed. Tonight though, instead of curling to the side of the bed, he turns and presses close to Bucky's side. Steve does the same and Sam falls asleep with his head on Bucky's shoulder and his fingers laced with Steve's.

He wakes up, hard and aching, in the middle of the night only to find that Bucky's awake, too. They stare at each other for long, quiet moments in the moonlight. What do you want from me? Sam wants to ask. How does this work? He doesn't know what Bucky sees, but his face seems full of questions, too. Then Bucky brings his hand to Sam's face, reeling him in. They kiss, long and deep and slow, and Bucky reaches for him, strokes him until he comes, breathing hard into Bucky's mouth. Sam cleans them up with tissues from the nightstand, and when he settles, Steve shifts, reaches over and squeezes Sam's shoulder before falling back to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning Sam wakes slow and easy, his muscles feeling a little sore, but good. He stretches with a groan and finds that he's alone in bed.

When he ambles to the living room, he finds Bucky hunched over a cup of coffee at the dining table, but Steve's nowhere to be seen.

"Steve out running?" Sam asks.

"Mmm." Bucky grunts, and damn. Sam likes running with Steve, even if he is a jerk who insists on lapping Sam, running ten miles to Sam's every one.

Sam stretches again and pours himself a cup of coffee, rolling his neck and shoulders, coming awake.

"Heading down to the gym in a few. You coming?" Sam asks. Sparring with Bucky is good, usually, fun. This morning though, he has questions and he's hoping that Bucky maybe has answers.

"The fuck is wrong with you two," Bucky grumbles, setting his empty coffee cup down. "Sleeping in is a thing, Sam. Why don't you two know that?"

"Hey," Sam laughs. "Not my fault I didn't get some kind of super serum. It's hard work looking this good."

Bucky eyes him up and down, a slow look full of want. "Fine," Bucky says. "Meet you in ten."

They make their way down to the tower gym. It's outfitted with everything the team needs to keep in good shape, and, while neither Bucky nor Sam lives at the tower, it's nice to use the facilities when they're there.

The sparring is good, as usual. Bucky's quick, easy on his feet, but Sam's got a trick or two up his sleeve, and while they're not evenly matched, Sam holds his own. They're both drenched in sweat by the time they call a halt.

Sam's leaning with his back against the wall, towel around his neck and chugging a bottle of water. Bucky hands him a Gatorade and slides down the wall next to him.

"Good workout," Sam says. "Thanks, man."

"'Course, pal."

The silence grows awkward as Sam tries to figure out how to ask his questions, whether they're welcome, and whether Steve should be there, too.

Bucky saves him though, knocking Sam's knee with his own, then his shoulder.

"Whatever's on your mind, you should just say. Stevie and I had a long time to talk about this, but I know you're still getting up to speed."

"Okay, that right there. What does that mean, 'you talked about this?' What was that conversation even like?"

Bucky shrugs. "Look, you know Stevie, he's got a heart as big as the moon. And it's not like we haven't been here before."

Sam draws a breath at that, thinking.

"During the war. Steve and Peggy?" He pauses. "And you?" he asks, incredulous, because, wow. People are so married to the idea of Steve and Peggy, and their tragic love affair cut short. He can't imagine what people would think if they knew it was Steve, Peggy and…Bucky.

That soft smile pulls at the corners of Bucky's mouth. "He was nuts about her, Sam. Never saw Steve go nuts for a dame like that, before or since."

"So the three of you?"

"Nah. Peg was a one-fella kind of girl. She said she didn't mind about us being together – we've always been together and we're always gonna be together and she could see that.

"She – you know, I'm not telling tales out of school here, Sam. I get why you're asking and you got a reason to know. Once or twice, it was her and Steve and me, but the only thing between me and Peg was friendship and how much we both loved Steve. That was all."

"So, what? They were going to get married some day and you were gonna be his thing on the side?"

Bucky laugh, low and chuckling and it lights up his face. "Hell if I know, Sam. I think mostly we were just trying to get out of the war alive." Bucky's face softens then and while his face is still young, his eyes take on that aged look that Steve gets sometimes, the thing that lets Sam believe that yeah, this guy's been around a while. "Peg did, at least. I'm real glad she got to have the life she did, you know?"

Sam smiles. "Yeah."

They let the quiet sit for a little bit before Sam pushes on.

"Look, you get where I'm coming from, right? I mean, you understand why I have to talk this out, right?"

Taking Sam's hand in his, Bucky smiles down at their entwined fingers. "You can ask me anything, Sam. Anything you need."

Sam's quiet for a moment, but then angles himself so that he can see Bucky as he speaks. "What you said last night, about dissociating? What does that look like for you?"

Bucky sighs and closes his eyes. It tugs at Sam's gut, and the need to protect Bucky flares up, even though there's no threat.

"It's not – it doesn't happen all the time. When I'm fighting, you've seen me – I have no problem focusing and staying in the moment. But…if there's too much input sometimes, or if I'm processing physical and emotional responses, sometimes it can lead to dissociation. Anything medical – probably never going to be able to see a dentist again." Bucky laughs, but it's bitter and Sam reaches out, wraps his hand around Bucky's ankle and squeezes.

"Thank you for telling me about it. So last night was…?"

"It was a lot to process. I mean, just the physical part of it was a lot, but then seeing the two of you together – it was a little sensory overload."

"But it didn't bother you?"

Bucky coughs out a laugh and looks away, a blush rising on his cheeks and that - that is a good luck on Barnes. Sam's stomach swoops, watching it. "Not in the way your mean, Sam. It was…I liked it."

He gives Bucky's ankle another squeeze. "And you'd really be fine if I said I just want Steve, that I want to date your boyfriend, and not you. You'd do that all over again? Don't you…don't you want something for yourself?"

Bucky looks at him, deadpan. "Nah, I'm just your friendly neighborhood metal-armed Jesus. I have no needs of my own."

Laughing, Sam blushes. He forgets how sharp Bucky's humor can be.

Bucky smiles, the fingers holding Sam's hand tightening. "Besides," Bucky says, blinking. "I don't get the feeling that's the case. Look, don't think – this isn't something I'm doing for Steve, okay? I know he thinks like that, but don't you get that idea in your head. I want this. I want you. Not because Steve wants you, but because I want you." Bucky drops Sam's hand and cups his cheek, rubbing his thumb against the faint stubble there.

"You're gorgeous, Sammy. You're sexy, and the way you see the world, the way you move through the world – it's beautiful. Even if it was just you and Steve and you didn't want any part of me like that, I would still get to have all these other parts of you. I would still get to see you, in your happiness. What kind of jerk wouldn't want that?"

And Sam feels it. He feels it in the way that Bucky is at turns kind and tender and funny. He is gentle with Sam in a way that doesn't imply that Sam is broken, but that Sam is treasured. It's in the way that Bucky looks at him, like he's not a prize, but a reward, something earned, and maybe that's what this is. Maybe this is _their_ reward, for what they do, how hard they fight.

Maybe Sam's allowed to have this. It might not be what he'd thought he'd have, what he'd planned with Riley, but maybe it can be just as full, just as beautiful, even if it's _different._

"Can I ask _you_ something?" Bucky says.

Sam nods, but is caught off guard by what comes next.

"You always crash like that after a mission?"

A hot flush of shame fills Sam's face. It's not something he's ever really acknowledged - not to himself or anyone else - so he's sure not prepared to respond.

Still, the way Bucky looks at him, soft, beseeching, and without judgement, it tells Sam that it's probably time to deal with his issues.

He knows about adrenaline crashes. Hell, he's got literature in his office about adrenal fatigue and how to come back from it. But knowing and doing are two different things, and he, well, to be honest, there's something about it he likes. A little bit of rebellion, a little 'fuck you, I do what I want.' Even if what he wants isn't healthy.

Sam nods, not meeting Bucky's eyes.

"And was this time better or worse than usual?"

And fine. Fine. Fuck it. Sam looks Bucky in the eye. "It's been worse. This time...it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be."

"Sam." Bucky voice is soft and sad.

"Look, I know, okay?" he says. He doesn't mean to sound so defensive, but he doesn't like the feel of Bucky's pity coming down on him. He looks away, his best fuck you face in full effect.

"Hey. Sam." Bucky reaches out, tugs at the hand that Sam's got wrapped around his knees. When did he get so balled up?

"You don't have to do this alone, you know? You've got us behind you, no matter what. You know that, right? You gotta know that." Then Bucky pulls harder and tugs Sam into a warm embrace and there's something barbed, sharp, inside of Sam's chest. He wants to let it go. Somewhere inside of him is a tangle of fear and pride, and he knows he needs to let it go, but he also knows he can't right yet. Soon, maybe.

Sam breathes deep and pats Bucky on the back.

"Thanks, man," he says into the crook of Bucky's neck.

Bucky gives his neck a squeeze before letting go. "We're here for you, Sam. As for the other stuff, take some time to think about it?" Bucky asks. His eyes are soft, and the faded blue of well-loved jeans.

"You know, your eyes are never the same color from one minute to the next. How do you do that?"

"Old assassin trick," Bucky says, rising to his feet and pulling Sam with him.

It startles a laugh from Sam and the two of them go on that way, laughing and joking with one another, through the stripping off of their gear and into the hot showers. It's not until Sam catches Bucky watching him with a heavy-lidded stare that Sam decides to test out their new arrangement.

"See something you like," Sam asks, looking over his shoulder at Bucky.

Smirking, Bucky walks to where Sam is standing. "You know I do." Bucky rubs a hand across Sam's shoulder, fingers sliding against the soap-slicked skin.

Turning, Sam mirrors Bucky's smirk, holds it until Bucky looks him in the eye and strokes a hand across Sam's jaw.

"You really are gorgeous," Bucky says, and then leans in to nip at Sam's lower lip.

Reaching out, Sam puts his hand on Bucky's waist, pulls him closer, until they're flush, hip to belly. "This okay?" Sam asks.

"Yeah," Bucky says, licking across Sam's lower lip. The steam billows around them, and everything feels heady and thick, like a dream where every move is two times too slow.

"Steve gonna think so?" Sam ask, swallowing, because last night still feels a little bit unreal, and he had to check in with himself this morning. The tissues on the nightstand confirmed that the midnight hand-job wasn't a dream after all. He can't stop wondering how they're both so okay with this. He's waiting for it to blow up in his face.

"Stevie's fine with it, Sam," Bucky says, his voice thick and low, but he pushes back from Sam all the same. "But it's okay if you want to wait for him to say so."

Sagging, Sam leans against the shower wall. His body wants to chase after Bucky, maybe find out what he tastes like, but his mind is saying something else and all at once it's too much to figure out.

Sam chuckles, his mind catching up how they must look, both of them half hard and lusting, water dripping - it's like the scene from a bad porno.

"Sorry man," he says. "I just - I don't know the rules for all of this."

"You think I do?" Bucky asks. "I got news for you, pal. We're making it up as we go."

"Steve really wouldn't mind if I'm with you? Alone?"

"Mind? I can bet you money right now that he's gonna want me to act out the whole thing for him, next time we're together. He's crazy about you, Sam."

"That's...that's hot."

Bucky smirks. "I know."

He walks to the shower head next to Sam and leans one hand against the wall, bowing his head, letting the hot water run through his hair. Sam takes him in, the muscled body, the sharp line where metal meets flesh. Those goddamned thighs.

"You're a menace, Barnes."

Bucky whips his hair up and gives him a cocky grin. "Don't I just know it."

He turns to leave the shower and Sam finds himself reaching out, pulling him back.

"Uh-uh," Sam tuts. "Let's see if I can wipe that grin off your face."

He pushes Bucky back against the wall, next to the spray and drops to his knees. Bucky lets out a short, sharp huff as his cock begins to fill.

"Sammy," he says, voice breathy as he reaches out to stroke a hand against Sam's cheek.

Sam presses his nose in against the spot where Bucky's hip meets his thigh, then licks at it, lapping the warm water from Bucky's skin.

Bucky smells of water and clean skin, and Sam takes him in, licking and nuzzling against his balls, anticipation growing in his belly as Bucky gets hard.

"That's right, baby," Sam says, sucking one of Bucky's balls into his mouth before tonguing the other.

Groaning, Bucky's dick twitches, bobbing against the side of Sam's face.

"Come on," Sam says, and taps the inside of Bucky's thigh, before pushing on it, lifting and letting Bucky rest it over Sam's shoulder.

It puts extra pressure on Sam's knees, but it's worth it when Bucky draws a high, gasping moan as Sam's tongue flicks across his hole. Sam does it again, and again, creating a slow but steady pressure until the tip of his tongue breaches Bucky. He watches with dim amusement as Bucky's metal hand claws against the tile, feeling the tremble of Bucky's thigh against his cheek.

"Sam." It's a sob, a benediction maybe, and Sam takes it in as he takes Bucky apart. Sam's hard and throbbing, his dick leaking already, just from having Bucky under his hands, under his mouth. He shivers when he thinks of what it would be like to be inside of him, have all that power yielding to him, Bucky trusting Sam to take him where he needs to go.

Bucky's muttering and moaning, and Sam finally takes pity on the man, lowering his thigh off Sam's shoulder and taking his cock down fast and ruthless.

Bucky's thick and hard, and Sam drinks the water from his skin, swallowing it down as it washes the taste of Bucky from his mouth. He reaches down to stroke himself as he sucks, Bucky's cock heavy and wide in his mouth, pushing up against the back of his throat, and oh, he wants it there, wants to let the swollen head push down into his throat, wants to hear Bucky come undone as he fucks it.

"Sam, Sam," Bucky's cries are reaching a fever pitch, desperate and needy, even as he keeps his hips pinned to the wall, letting Sam take him only as deep as Sam wants him to go. Sam looks up and Bucky's got that look, that lost, wounded look that Sam remembers from last night and then Bucky opens his eyes, wide, shocked and needful.

"Sam!" and then he's coming, spurting hot and slick onto Sam's tongue, and Sam watches as his orgasm takes him from needful to blissed out, head thunking onto the wall behind him as his knees give and he slides down the wall, into Sam's lap.

Leaning forward into the crook of Sam's neck, Bucky works his hand between them, and Sam's release is so close, so close and he's hanging, holding on a wire of need until Bucky licks, then bites down hard at the crook of Sam's neck and Sam comes, breathing hard and gasping Bucky's name.

They sit like that, piled into one another, the shower spray misting over them as they catch their breath.

Sam comes back to himself as Bucky's kissing him: long, slow kisses that bring Sam back together rather than try to pull him apart.

"The way you kiss," Bucky says, before leaning in for one more, licking into Sam's mouth in a way that makes him dizzy.

He feels loose now, easy in his skin as Bucky tugs him to his feet and lathers them both up, washing them clean again under the warm spray. They grin at each other, silly, and Sam feels a little drunk on how good, how effortless it seems, being with either of these men.

Steve's his best friend, knows him probably better than anyone, but Bucky, they've always shared a mild rivalry, like bratty children vying for Dad's attention. It doesn't mean they're never sweet to each other, but their teasing can sometimes go hard. Still, Sam knows he'll go to the mat for Bucky, and that's got nothing to do with Steve, and everything to do with knowing that Bucky would do the same for him.

Bucky keeps up the kissing as they towel one another dry, and finally as they dress. As he leans in for one more, Sam giggles into it and Bucky pulls back, questioning.

"You really like kissing," Sam says, a soft, sly grin on his face.

"Like kissing you," Bucky responds, then really lays one on him, long and deep and soft in a way that has Sam's toes curling in his shoes.

As he eases out of it, Bucky presses his forehead to Sam's, and Sam breathes him in, things he hasn't felt in a long time creeping around his edges.

This could get dangerous.

.

Sam's due at the VA later that afternoon. He misses running the group meetings, but still has a few patients that he sees one-on-one. He loves his Avengers work; he's proud of what they do. The individual counseling, though, that's where he gets that sense that he's making a real difference, that he's actually saving lives.

Sitting across from Terry, he feels it all over again. He'd first met Terry in group, a big guy who kept to the back, chain-smoked on breaks and had a mean case of the thousand-yard stare. After a couple of months, he'd stopped showing up and Sam couldn't help but worry after him. It took two missed calls and Terry'd shown up at group again, then approached Sam after with thanks that left Sam feeling red-cheeked and grateful.

When a man says your rambling voicemail made him think twice about the muzzle in his mouth, you feel grateful and humbled and pretty out of sorts.

"Met a girl," Terry says, and Sam listens.

"I think it's probably too soon," he says. "You know, I have…all these problems and, you know, none of that's on her. None of that's her shit to deal with. I mean, she's nice, you know? Really pretty. But, like, it's probably too soon. I should tell her I'm not ready."

Sam waits, because Terry still hasn't gotten to the heart of it. Still hasn't gotten to the "but I like her anyway," part, or the "and it's time I start living my damned life again," part, so Sam waits. Some of his clients need spoon feeding, and some just need to name their demons out loud. Sam can work with either, but he like the latter a whole lot more, because mostly, those are the ones that are going to do the hard work of getting better. They're fed up with hanging on by their fingernails and they're furious about being a victim and they're willing to fight hard to get their damn lives back.

Maybe he can relate.

By the end of Terry's session, he's talking himself into asking Alyssa ("Aly, she keeps telling me to call her Aly") out for coffee and some frank conversation. Sam says honesty's usually good place to start, and they agree to meet again next week, and yes, yes, he'll remember that coffee isn't a wedding ring. It's just coffee.

Sam sees two other clients and refers one to his colleague, Liz, when it becomes clear that she wasn't comfortable talking about her sexual assault with a man. It smarts a little: Sam likes to think of himself as one of the good guys, but his ego isn't as important as her need for real help, so it's a non-issue. His week rolls by the same way: morning work outs that push his body hard and afternoons and evenings at the VA, helping where he can.

Nights he spends flopping from one side of the bed to the other, his brain fighting the exhaustion, but too unfocused to think through the questions to get to the answers. Steve and Bucky both call and text to check in, but Sam blows them both off. _Busy and thinking_ is what he texts them, a group text, just so they're all on the same page.

At the end of the week, after wrapping up his day, he stops by his apartment to pick up a change of clothes and a few toiletries. Before they'd found Bucky and everything had gone to hell, Sam was content to stay at the compound, train with the rest of them, and volunteer at the VA when and where he could, mostly driving vets to and from their appointments.

Now though, he doesn't think he could ever call the compound home again, and while he's going to keep his body in fighting condition, he's careful about how much of his life he's willing to let the Avengers own. He can't help but wonder how Steve and Bucky fit into _that_ dynamic.

The trip to the cemetery is a lot like stripping down at the end of a long day. Sam sheds all those top layers, his worries about his clients and the ache in his muscles because he went hard at the gym, his guilt over not calling his mom, even though he'd promised to be better about it, the low grade anxiety that he'd get called to suit up, and the thrill of anticipation that suiting up brings.

He makes his way to Riley's plot, clearing away the dead flowers from someone else's last visit, replacing the tiny, faded flag with one that's fresh and crisp. Pulls the cleaning supplies out of his pack and uses his pinky and a rag to get into the engravings. It takes him some time to get settled, but he likes it; the ritual gets him into the headspace he needs, the place where he can get really honest.

"Hey, Rye," he says, his fingers tracing down the R-I of Riley's name.

"I know, I know, it's been a minute. Got called away by the new job, and you know I don't live in town anymore. Took me a couple of days to get enough time to get over here."

His mom, and Riley's mom, they both told him he was going to have to let this go at some point, and yeah, that's probably true. But there was a point in time where Riley was home, and the home that Sam chose, not the one that was chosen for him, and there's a difference. He figures until he has a new home to go to, he's going to keep coming back to this one.

"You remember those crazy white boys I told you about? Well you are not going to believe this one." Sam takes a breath, breathes deep, holds it.

And as he lets it out, he finds he's letting go. That tension that's been coiled deep since Bucky first put his hands on Sam bleeds away, and he lets himself feel all the things that he's been fighting. The uncertainty of something new, the fear at how wrong everything can go, and what it would mean to lose, not just Steve and Bucky, but maybe the Avengers, too. What other people will think, and it's a big one because he's grown, and he's not going to live his life based on someone else's ideas of right and wrong, but he's not naive enough to think that no one else is going to care. The hope of how good it could be.

The goddamned hope.

He spills it all, giving all of it to Riley, letting him hold it so that Sam can draw back and have himself a good look, try to figure out what it is he wants. In the end, he leans his head against the cold stone, lets a couple of tears fall, wishes like hell that Riley was here.

"Still mad at you, you know," he says, drumming his fingers across the top of the headstone. "Wasn't supposed to have to figure this shit out again, but no, you had to go and get your dumb ass blown out of the sky, leave me here to do all the hard work without you. Dick move, man," he says, a soft smile on his face. "Dick move."

It's been seven years since he lost Riley, and they'd been together for five. He knows himself well enough to know that he's not pining, not really. But he's not in a hurry to settle for anything less than what he had, and he's not so sure that playing add-on to what's probably the love story of the century isn't settling.

He liked spending time with them though. He really liked it.

All at once he knows he's not going to find the answers he's looking for today, and he's pretty sick of thinking about it.

Shrugging, he shakes it off and resettles himself.

"Anyway. You heard Katie's getting married? To that dopey kid – the one with the big ol' Dumbo ears. Your mom's about over the moon, planning everything. I'm sure she's told you all about it."

The sun edges back down toward the sea, and Sam sits in the hazy orange light. He tells Riley all about his little sister's wedding. He talks about his clients, and his new neighbor ("Dude, she's on my last nerve and she just moved in. Who the hell locks themselves out of their house three times in the first week? Damn."). He says everything but 'I love you,' and 'I miss you," but he knows that Riley heard all that anyway.

"Guess I got a date this weekend," Sam says, finally rising and brushing himself off. "I know, I know, I'll be back to tell you all about it." He brushes his hand across the arch of the headstone one last time before he turns away. As he makes the long drive back to New York, he finds that the weight he was carrying doesn't come with.


	5. Chapter 5

For their first official date, they agree to meet at one of Sam's favorite restaurants. It's an upscale Mexican restaurant that Sam stumbled onto a year ago with Nat. It's nice enough that they won't look out of place in suits, but casual enough that they can relax and enjoy themselves.

Not that Sam has plans to relax anytime soon.

He wants to. He wants to go out to dinner with two of the best looking men he's ever known and enjoy the company of two of his favorite people. He wants to laugh with Bucky over Steve's food-induced O face, and he wants to tease Bucky when he picks at the new foods, sure he won't like them, then moaning in happiness when he does. It happens every time. (Except with the calamari. Everyone agreed that the calamari was a disaster.)

Mostly, he wants to relax into the easy familiarity that he's found with these two men. The casual way they are with each other, the way that he's _not_ with anyone else. The sex part, that was good, no question. But what he wants, what he's been missing, is more than that, and he's not sure if he can have it. Not sure if they can give it. He'd thought he was on his way to finding it with Steve, but he has no idea what that might look like with the addition of Bucky.

He looks himself over in the mirror. The dark gray suit he's wearing works with the eggplant colored shirt. He gives himself a smirk in the mirror. It's been a minute since he's dressed up for a date like this. It feels good, looking good for someone else.

"You got this, Wilson," he says to the guy in the mirror. The guy in the mirror does not disagree.

When he arrives at the restaurant the other two are already there. Steve looks amazing in a dark blue suit with a crisp white shirt, and Bucky is wearing black on black on black and that - that is just unfair. No one should look that good in all black.

When Bucky catches sight of Sam, he a corner of his mouth tilts up into a crooked smile and Sam can't help but smile back. Then Steve is there, smiling and looking so eager and so fond. Sam shakes his head to himself a little. He never stood a chance, did he?

When they get inside, Sam sees that Bucky reserved one of the small, private rooms in the back for them. It's nice and Sam knows that all three of them will relax more, knowing they don't have to worry about a hundred pictures of the three of them hitting the internet in the morning. There was one from a few months ago with Steve shoving a burrito as big as his head into his mouth, and that picture had been manipulated in ways that made Steve blush bright any time anyone mentioned it.

They waitress brought their drinks (two kinds of sangria for Sam and Bucky, with watermelon aqua Fresca for Steve) and then the three of them tried - and failed - to make small talk until the first round of appetizers came.

There were empanadas (amazing), _queso fundido_ (weird), guacamole prepared table-side, and a trio of tamales that were in turn hot enough to have Steve reaching for his drink, sweet and creamy, and smooth and cheesy in a way that made Sam want more. The ceviche should have sonnets written to it - on that they all agreed.

It wasn't any better as the entrees came. Steve got the lamb in banana leaves, Bucky the short ribs in mole sauce and Sam got the seafood enchilada with a creamy green sauce that made him love the entire universe, just for that moment.

At least while they were busy eating it wasn't so apparent how awkward everything was.

Bucky finally broke. "This is weird," he said.

"So weird," Sam agreed.

"Why is it like this?" Steve asked. "It shouldn't be - we're friends."

"Maybe that's why?" Sam said.

Bucky shrugs. "I don't know, but this is weird."

The all nod and look at one another.

"Hey," Bucky says. "Did Sam ever tell you about the first time he met Scott?"

"What?" Sam turns to Bucky and Bucky has the biggest shit-eating grin Sam has ever seen.

"Barnes." He levels Bucky with a look that promises regret if he says another word.

"What?" Steve asks. "They met at the compound, right? What am I not getting?"

"You little shit," Sam says.

Bucky grins and Sam reaches over to give him a punch in the arm.

Steve laughs and like that, the awkwardness disappears and the three of them are talking and laughing and eating just like they would any other time. It's good. Sam feels the tension ease out of his shoulders and spine. Whatever ends up happening, they're going to be okay. Probably.

When the waitress comes with dessert menus, Bucky waits for her to leave then looks at the three of them.

"Are we having sex later? I mean, not to put you on the spot, but the flan sounds amazing, but I can't eat that and fuck in the next hour. I'm so full."

Steve says "Whaaaat?" and "Bucky!"

Sam laughs. "I hadn't really thought about it," he says, which is the dirtiest lie he's ever told. He busies himself with the fruit at the bottom of his sangria glass, and then looks up to find two super soldiers staring at him. Steve's looking a little bit scandalized and all kinds of hopeful. Bucky's looking a little bit cocky, but with an open smile that makes Sam want to crawl into his arms and never leave.

Okay, then. His call.

He thinks about what he wants and it's overwhelming, all over again. These two men with their strength and power and bright beauty, opening their arms to him, inviting him in make a place for himself there, between them.

After a week of thinking it over, of imagining what that might look like, rolling it over his tongue and seeing if he likes the taste of it, Sam's still not sure. And maybe he doesn't have to know right now. Maybe he can just roll with this and see where it goes. He doesn't have to give up his whole heart today. Maybe he can give them just a little piece, just for right now.

Shrugging, Sam takes a moment to look them both in the eye. "We can always get dessert to go," he says.

Steve and Bucky's answering smiles leave him feeling like he's made the right choice.

"That was," Steve says, flopping onto his side.

"So good," Bucky finishes and leans over to snuggle in next to Sam.

"Mmm," Sam responds. He's already half asleep, sweat-slicked, and feeling loose and easy.

"Shower?" Bucky asks.

"You can fuck right off with that," Sam says, not even opening his eyes.

Steve chuckles and there's movement, but Sam can't pay attention. A few minutes later though, Bucky and Steve are laving his limbs with a warm washcloth. He smiles, sleepy and sweet, and a few moments later, Bucky snuggles down on one side of him, and Steve on the other. As he drifts off into sleep, Sam thinks that this is something he can definitely get used to.

The next morning, Sam wakes slow and lazy. The sun is bright behind his closed eyes, and he lingers in the warm of the bed. When he gets around to opening his eyes, he's surprised to find Steve laying across from him, running soft fingers against Sam's skin. When Sam looks up, Steve's bright blue eyes greet him. A soft smile curls at the corners of Steve's mouth. It's late enough that Steve's already been for his run, and Sam can smell his shower gel and see his hair still-damp hair. It fills Sam with all kinds of feelings, things he might not be ready for, but that are coming, just the same.

"Morning," Steve says, and Sam smiles back. Steve leans in for a small kiss, just a brush of his mouth against Sam's, and it nice, Sam thinks, waking up with someone like this.

"You seemed pretty racked out, so we thought we'd let you sleep," Steve says. "Bucky's out getting donuts."

Sam smiles, thinking again how he could get used to this, and then pauses. Because this is the wooing part, he realizes. This is the part where they pull out all the stops, but what will it be like when they all get lazy and start taking each other for granted? What will it be like when the three of them are grumpy and no one wants to take out the trash and everyone's on everyone else's last nerve?

"Hey," Steve says. "Where'd you go?"

Sam shakes his head. "Sorry. Just…trying to process it all."

"Hmm," Steve says, then runs his hand from Sam's shoulder down to his hip. "I think we should talk when Bucky gets back, but for now, can I give you a distraction?"

Sam closes his eyes and nods. He really likes morning sex, when he's still soft and sleepy and loose. It's usually not so intense, and from what he remembers, Steve likes it that way too – soft, slow and easy. And there's no point in having the conversation without Bucky, right? "Bucky okay with this?" Sam asks. Steve nods and hums against Sam's skin before he starts mouthing his way down Sam's body. It's not long before Sam is gasping, pulling at the sheets, and shooting into Steve's warm, lively mouth.

"You two almost make pulling delivery duty worth it."

Sam looks up and Bucky's leaning against the door frame, a smirk hovering on his lips.

For a moment – just one flash of "oh, God, what are we doing?" Sam freezes and begins to panic.

But then Bucky grins and makes his way to the bed, and before long, the three of them are entwined in a long, heated make out session that ends with Steve and Bucky coming almost simultaneously, and Sam in urgent need of a shower.

Later that morning, Sam looks around the kitchen table. Steve is looking soft and easy, a bit of raspberry jam tucked into the corner of his mouth. Bucky looks relaxed, but Sam knows him well enough by now to see the line of tension he's holding in his neck and shoulders, maybe because he has that same line of tension running through him. It's past time to be beating around the bush, he thinks, so he opens his mouth and lets his questions start pouring out.

"When you two said that you'd talked a lot about this, what exactly did you mean?" And damn, Wilson, you're not pulling your punches.

Steve and Bucky share a look, and seem to decide between them who should speak. Sam's not surprised when it's Bucky. He might be more comfortable with Steve, but Bucky is definitely the charmer.

"It's like what we talked about the other day," he says. "We both want you. We both like you. We thought you might feel the same."

"Yeah, I kind of picked up on that part. I guess what I really want to know is how does this work?"

"I think it works however we want it to work," Steve says. "It's not like there's some kind of rule book for this."

"Actually," Bucky pipes up, and Steve glares at him.

"Bucky, no." He turns and gives Sam a conspiratorial look. "I'm going to kill whoever showed him Amazon."

Sam can't help but smile at that. He's seen some of the crazy things that Bucky has bought, just because it exists and he _can._ Bucky'd bought a set of tiny hands that fit on the ends of his fingers that still freaked Clint out every time he saw them.

"It was Nat," Bucky and Sam say in unison. Steve wrinkles his brow and then laughs.

"Wow. I was not expecting that."

The three of them chuckle, and it's easy. So easy that Sam is tempted to just let it be, and not push this line of conversation any further.

But that's not who he is, and the limbo of too many questions is building up like bile in the back of his throat.

"I think we're gonna need some rules," Sam says. "I don't want to do anything to get between you two." As he says it, he realizes that that's not it at all. If seventy years and a whole lot of brain washing didn't get between those two, Samuel Wilson and his very fine ass isn't going to either.

"I mean," he says, and his brain zeroes in on what's been holding him back all this time. It's not something he wants to think about, so he tucks it away from himself, from them as well. "I just want us to all be on the same page, is all."

Steve nods, face thoughtful. "I think – for me and Bucky, neither one of us has a problem if you start wanting to spend more time with one or the other of us. That's not going to be an issue for _us,_ right Buck?"

"Yeah, Stevie." Bucky looks at Sam, head cocked. "That's not really what you're worried about." It's not a question and Sam feels caught out.

"No," he agrees. "But it's a start."

"Sam," Steve starts, then stops himself. The he gets that look on his face, the one that he gets right before he does something he doesn't want to do, but knows he has to do. Sam's seen that look before, and he braces himself.

"When we were seeing each other before? It was good. I was happy. But I'm happy now, too, either way this goes, I'm gonna be okay. But then? I couldn't really tell if you were happy. I mean, you know," and Steve does this thing with his face, screwing it up and rolling his eyes. "I knew when you were having a good time, but…you hold your cards close to the vest, and that's your prerogative. But you can't do that and then be mad if we don't guess right about where you're at." Steve quiets then and looks at Bucky, who gives him a little nod.

"If this doesn't work out," Bucky says. "We can go back to being friends, you know. That'll be just fine with both of us."

"Will it?" Sam asks, because 'don't shit where you eat' was one of the most colorful phrases his Pops had ever uttered, so Sam understood it was important.

Leaning forward, Bucky takes one of Sam's hands in his. "You're not going to lose our friendship, Sam, and you're not going to lose the Avengers."

Sam relaxes a little at that, because yeah, the worst case scenario has been on his mind.

Bucky smiles, pulls back and stretches. "We don't have to decide anything right now, you know. How about you think on it, and we think on it, and if we're all still interested, we can have dinner again next Friday night?"

Sam thinks it over, and yeah, that'll work. He smiles and says as much, and Bucky grins.

"Good. There's a new seafood joint near the Tower. Pepper says the scallops will make you see God."

Sam chuckles, and cocks his head at Bucky. "You don't play fair at all, do you?"

"Nope. Never said I would."

"Keep this one in check, will you?" Sam says to Steve.

Putting his hands up, Steve mimes innocence. "Don't drag me into this."

"Oh, you're just an innocent bystander?" Sam asks.

"Completely," Steve says, widening his eyes and then fluttering his lashes.

"You falling for this shit?" Sam asks Bucky.

"Pal, I haven't fallen for his shit since the third grade."

The three of them laugh and then hug, and Sam leaves their brownstone feeling lighter, and a lot less uncertain than he did going in.


	6. Chapter 6

_Six weeks later…_

"Hey, man, did I leave my blue shirt at your place?"

Bucky draws back and look at the phone, then brings it back to his face. "I don't know, did you?"

"You haven't seen it? Damn, it's my favorite."

Bucky shrugs, and even though Sam can't see him do it, he responds anyway. "Can you ask Steve when you see him?"

"Sure, pal," Bucky says, and hangs up.

He tugs on the hem of his shirt and wipes the sweat from his face with it, before walking back over to Steve.

"Everything ok?" Steve asks.

"Sure, he's just looking for a shirt he left at our place."

Steve draws back, wearing his best dad face. "Buck. Did you tell him you're _wearing_ it?"

Bucky shrugs. "I don't know what you're talking about."

 _Sixteen weeks later…_

Sam's sweaty and disgusting from his morning run with Steve, but that doesn't stop Steve from pressing him up against the handrail in front of his building and kissing him breathless. He's leaning his forehead against Sam's and has his eyes closed, lashes laying long against his cheeks.

"I can't come up. I have a nine o'clock and need to get to the office."

Sam quashes his disappointment. Post-run blow-jobs have been on his mind since he dragged himself out of bed that morning.

"Can we see you tonight?" Steve asks.

Sam wants to – God, he wants to. He never knows what's better – taking these two men apart, or letting them do it to him. Still…

"Can't," he says, and doesn't offer an excuse. He refuses to lie, and he doesn't want the fight from telling the truth.

It doesn't matter, though. Steve sighs against Sam's lips and tightens the hand that's on his hip.

"Alright," he says, opening his eyes to look at Sam. It tugs at something in Sam's chest – letting this man down. Sam can see the disappointment in Steve's eyes, and he knows he'll be getting a text from Bucky later.

"We're on for Friday though, right?" Sam asks.

"Yeah," Steve says. "Yeah, sure. You know –" He starts, but then cuts himself off.

Sam can see the fight in his face, but doesn't say anything.

"You know we care about you, right?" Steve says.

"I know," Sam answers. "Now git. You're gonna be late. Can't keep the board waiting."

Steve rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. See you Friday then."

Sam sits on the stoop and watches until Steve turns a corner and is out of sight. He knows there's been a rising tension the last few weeks. Sam's been holding back, and everyone knows it. They don't understand, and he doesn't know how to make them see: he's the one with everything to lose.

Walking up the stairs, he feels his phone buzz and knows without looking it's Bucky. He thumbs the phone to silent.

 _Six months later…_

"Open up for me, baby. Just like that." Sam looks down and strokes Steve's cheek. He and Bucky have been holding Steve on the edge of orgasm for almost an hour now, dancing him to the edge but never letting him tip over. His face is a mess – bright pink cheeks with the tracks of his tears running down them, mouth stretched tight over Sam's cock. He's trembling and desperate, but his blue eyes are clear, and Sam can see how much Steve loves this.

Steve takes Sam's dick down further and Bucky thrusts hard, causing Steve to choke a little between his mouthful and his moan.

"Look at you baby, doing so good. Isn't he doing good, Buck?"

"Mmm," Bucky says, running his hands along Steve's sides, not thrusting, but grinding deep as Steve's eyes roll back in his head.

Later, Sam and Bucky will curl around Steve, holding and stroking him until he comes fully back to himself. He needs this sometimes, when he loses sight of the fact that the good he's doing in the world outweighs the bad that's already there, when the team finds a new Hydra stronghold, or, like today, when AIM unleashes its latest creation on innocent people.

When it's over, he'll look at Sam and Bucky with sleepy eyes so filled with love that Sam will have to look away. He sometimes feels he doesn't deserve it, the way Steve looks at him, the way Bucky does too. He doesn't deserve it, and he can't make himself believe that they're not going to grow tired of this three-way arrangement.

They keep asking him for more, and each time he demurs. He wonders sometimes how long it will be before they stop asking. Before they decide they don't need him in their lives after all. Sam finds himself caught between hoping and dreading that day, in turn.

.

 _Nine months later…._

Sam throws his gym bag in his locker and walks to where his wings are stored. He and Bruce have been working on some new techniques that have Bruce running distraction so that Sam can sneak in and take out the bad guys. Every muscle in his body aches, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

Bruce is just coming from the shower, a high-calorie energy shake already in hand.

"Doing anything fun this weekend?" he asks.

Sam smiles. Bucky wants to go upstate to a farm to pick blueberries. Sam doesn't see why he should pay someone else for berries when he's the one doing the picking, but Bucky'd looked at them both, his blue-grey eyes pleading, and Sam and Steve found they couldn't say no. Steve promised massages by the end of the weekend, and that was enticement enough for Sam.

"Just hanging out with some friends," Sam answers.

Bruce chuckles, dark eyes sparkling. "Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

Sam feels his heart stop, looks up. "What?"

Smiling, Bruce holds his hands up in front of him. "Hey, no judgement here. It's – it's really nice, you know. I'm happy for you. For all of you."

Sam feels cold all over, because they've been careful. The one thing he was clear about was not wanting his love life to interfere with his work. Avenging was – well it wasn't everything, he couldn't say that. But it was a lot. It was _important._

Like he can read Sam's mind, Bruce drops his hands and shakes his head. "I don't think anyone else knows, Sam. No one's said anything, at least not to me."

"Then how?"

Bruce shrugs. "I can just see it. When you and Bucky are fighting, it reminds me how you and Steve would fight – like you just know the other person, how they'll move, what they're capable of. How they think. You don't just get that from working out together." He shrugs again. "It's in the way you all look at each other. We get back from a mission, and Steve looks at you both like he'd dying of thirst…."

"And we're the water."

"And you're the water. Like I said, Sam, I don't think anyone else knows. You know I won't say anything."

"Thanks. Thanks, man. I appreciate it."

Bruce makes a small, pleased sound, then picks up his gym bag and leaves.

Sam sits down on the bench in front of his locker thinks, for a really long time. They'd all exchanged I love you's a few months ago. Steve was effusive, wrapping himself around Sam, joyful in his confession. Bucky'd said it a few days later while the two of them were making a milk run. He'd turned to Sam in the middle of the dairy aisle and said, soft, "You know I love you, right, Sam? I _love_ you."

Sam's breath caught and he took Bucky's hand in his. "I love you, too," he said, and they stared at each other a moment, until Bucky smiled that wide, breathtaking smile and Sam grinned back, and they'd walked back to Steve and Bucky's place hand in hand, casting brief, shy glances at one another. When they got there, Steve took one look at the pair of them and grinned, kissing Bucky on the forehead and taking them both into his arms.

"You should think about moving in," Steve said later that night, as the three of them lay entwined.

Sam knew it was true – he was hardly at his place for more than a night or two each week, but some part of him was holding back, holding on. He knew the guys cared for him, but his mind was full of 'what ifs' and he didn't know how to placate them. He didn't know if he ever could.

 _Ten months later…_

Steve and Sam are having lunch at Steve's favorite Mexican place. Bucky was gone on an overnight mission, leaving Steve and Sam both needy and out of sorts.

As Sam takes a sip of his beer and looks up, he catches Steve staring. He looks sheepish enough for Sam to be worried. The last time he saw a look like this on Steve's face was moments before he broken things off with Sam. (I know it doesn't make sense," Steve had said, cheeks coloring. "I know that. But it's how I feel." And that helpless look on Steve's face, the same one that told Sam that no matter what happens, some part of Steve is always going to belong to Bucky. What could Sam say to that?)

Sam steels himself for a moment because he knows that if he's about to get dumped – _again_ – that this time it's going to hurt.

"What's up?" he asks, waiting for Steve to meet his gaze.

"It's just – Sunday is October first."

Sam nods, waiting for Steve to get on with it.

"We – well, Bucky and me – it's always been kind of a big deal to us. It's the anniversary of the day we first met. And we were kind of – we just –."

Oh. _Oh._ Alright, he see where this is going now. Sam smirks at him. "You want to take your boyfriend on a date? Alone?"

Steve flushes bright pink. "It's not that we don't love you, Sam. It's just – it's always been a day we celebrate. Even when we weren't together, even in the war, we still celebrated it. And, I just –."

"Dude, stop. You're gonna give yourself an aneurism. You two go, have fun. We don't have to be joined at the hip all the time, Steve. It's okay."

And it is. It really is. Rationally, Sam knows that Steve and Bucky are going to be Steve and Bucky no matter what. Like Samneric from Lord of the Flies, they are two people who function as one unit. And if they want to go out on a date, well, who is Sam to stop them? Really, it's fine.

Okay, sure, it stings a little. But Sam still helped Bucky get his hair smoothed into a neat little top-knot, and stopped Steve from wearing those atrocious socks before the pair of them went out. And yeah, he could have gone back to his apartment for the night, especially given that Steve had booked a room at a hotel downtown, but he doesn't want that. He wants to spend the night in the place that he's rapidly coming to think of as home. He wants to sleep in sheets that smell like "us." And maybe tonight he needs that – the reminder that there is an "us."

He's been trying hard to relax into this thing – this thing that they've had going for the better part of a year now. He's been letting go of his worries and doubts (what if something happens to one of us? What happens when I start aging and they don't?) and really trying to just be present with these two idiots that he thinks of as home and safety, and love.

So he's in bed reading one of the hundred Discworld books, knowing he's not really taking in the words but knowing it's better than staring at the ceiling, when he hears the front door open.

"Sam?"

"Hey Sam, are you still up?"

Sam dog-ears a page in his book and sits up, surprised.

"Sam!" Bucky walks through the door of the bedroom, doffing his suit jacket and laying it across the dresser. He's toeing off his dress shoes while Steve undoes his tie and shrugs out of his own jacket.

"What are you two doing here? Everything okay?"

"No," Steve says, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt.

"It was terrible, Sam," Bucky says, sitting at the edge of the bed.

Steve sits next to Bucky and Sam waits for them to elaborate.

"There was no one to laugh at my spoon joke, Sam. It was a good joke! And Steve tried to order eggplant. Eggplant, Sam."

"And no one ordered the shrimp," Steve says, sitting next to Bucky. "All this food came, and there was no shrimp, no scallops, no seafood at all. It was awful. And then dessert came –"

"And it was this chocolate soufflé thing –"

"With berry sauce and this vanilla cream –"

"And you weren't there to have any –"

"And, Sam, you would have loved it."

"Well did you bring me any?" Sam asks, still not really sure where they're going.

"Of course," Bucky shrugs, like why would you even ask that? "But that's not –"

"It's beside the point."

"The point," Bucky says, "the point, Sam, is that we missed you."

"We _missed_ you. So much. It wasn't the same without you. It wasn't _right,_ without you." Steve's cheeks color a little at that, but his eyes are bright and blue and shining something fierce.

Sam smiles, feeling warm all over. "Well, this bed does feel a little big without you two knuckleheads."

"Knuckleheads?" Bucky says. "Quit stealing my lines."

Smirking, Sam opens his arms but the two men stay put.

Bucky's smile turns soft, his face open and achingly young. "We gotta ask you, Sam."

Picking up Sam's hand, Steve gives it a little tug. "You're a part of us now," Steve says. "We're yours, no getting around it."

"But we were hoping…"

"If you'll have us?"

"Will you be ours, Sam?" Bucky picks up Sam's other hand and Sam is…overwhelmed. These men, these ridiculous men, with their strength and their power and their _goodness_. These men want him. It's flattering and humbling and it's not arrogance to think that he deserves this. He fights at their side because he can, and because that's what's right. But he can…he can _love_ at their sides, too. He can sleep each night, tangled up in the pair of them, and he can wake each morning to that tender, Bucky smile, or that too-bright, sunshine-Steve smile. He can lay himself open to them, their beautiful, perfect hearts, and know that they will tend to his heart, too. That they deserve this, all of them. Anything and everything that makes them whole, they deserve. They should have.

Sam tugs the hand that Bucky's holding, and Bucky comes closer, leaves a soft kiss on Sam's lips. Steve is smiling that extra-wattage, brighter-than-the-sun smile, and as Bucky nuzzles against Sam's neck, Steve leans in for a kiss of his own.

"Is this a yes?" Steve asks, against Sam's lips.

Smiling, Sam nips at Steve's lush bottom lip. "Yeah, baby," he says, reaching around to hold Bucky closer. "It's a yes."

"That means you're moving in," Bucky says, a stern look crossing his face. "You know it's time, Sam," he says, his voice soft.

It hits him hard and all at once. These men, this place, this is his home. He might have thought he was staving off some kind of hurt, holding something back, maybe, in case things went south, but it's too late for that now. He didn't mean to do it, let these two men become a part of his heart, but it's happened, and all he can be is happy about it.

"Yeah," he says, fingers tightening around Steve's waist, looking into Bucky's eyes. "Probably past time, if I'm being honest."

Steve's fingers grip him tight enough to bruise and he buries his face in Sam's neck with a sniffle.

"You crying, Rogers?" Bucky asks, leaning over to pinch Steve's side.

"Shut up," he answers, nestling deeper into the crook of Sam's neck.

Tipping his head, Sam presses a kiss to Steve's hair. "I love you, too."

They lay like that, together, and it's sweet and it's kind until it grows teasing and then fevered. They cling to one another as the waves crest and break, until they are, each of them, washed up on the shore of one another and it's everything any of them could have asked for. Everything and more.

As the three of them coast toward sleep, Bucky lays his head on Sam's chest and laces his fingers with Steve's.

"Do you think any of the others are ever going to figure it out?" Bucky asks.

"Uhm…" Sam presses his lips together and grins. This is going to be hilarious.

.

.

AN: Next fic will be a Sam/Bucky AU, if you like that sort of thing.

I'm chicklette on Ao3 and tumblr. Come say hey.


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